Transmutation
by limitedvocab
Summary: Tryan. Transmute means to transform from one state to another - a rough definition. This is actually a oneshot...divided into two seperate parts due to the length of the story.


**This is actually a oneshot divided into two seperate segements due to the length. Part B will be updated ASAP, hopefully by the end of this weekend I would have finished all the scenes. **

**Transmutation:**

Scene I:

"You said what?" Ryan choked, brows rocketed upwards. "You said what?" he parroted, his voice quavering with disgust, shock and horror.

Sharpay quirked her brows as she inhaled deeply – a deep gulp of cold, dry oxygen to quell her anger – before she fixed her twin a stare. She sort of expected this. Sort of. Flicking strands of golden hair away from her pretty face, she glanced to her side, casting the lovely brunette a dirty look. _Now what, smartass?_

The brunette in a light, summer dress scowled in return. Gabriella Montez would not be accused for some blonde's stupidity. Oh, no. If anyone was at fault, it would be Sharpay Evans. It was the blonde's fault for not mentally preparing her equally dumb twin. Why did she even agree to this?

"Oh, I get it…" Ryan stated softly. His cornflower-blue eyes were clouded with confusion; the edges of his irises glimmered faintly with curiosity. "This is some sort of joke, right?"

Sharpay licked her lips. Joke? "Right, joke." Her brows knotted and knuckles white. It was pretty darn obvious that she was pissed. Not pissed at her twin…ok, maybe partially. But she was more pissed at the entire situation and the rotten fate she got to be stuck here, in some dingy downtown café that served tasteless coffee, trying to bait Ryan into some nasty scheme she and Montez planned. She dipped her head, and again, inhaled deeply. "Dammit Ryan!" she bellowed. "Does this look like a joke?"

The entire café went deadly quiet, startled by her sudden outburst. Only soft whispers were heard, muttered by the baristas as they continued with their daily tasks.

"There's no need to yell." Ryan winced, his voice lowered to a whisper as he glanced over his shoulder to study the expressions of others. "I never raise my voice, even when I am mad."

"That's because you always end up crying!" Sharpay snapped and shot a nasty glare at a group of teenager two tables away who were sniggering softly.

"Enough." Gabriella slammed her fist on the linoleum table. "Ryan, this might be difficult for you – "

"I get what you guys are trying to say," Ryan injected, face red with anger. God, why was everybody treating him like a five-year old? Must they be so bloody insulting whenever they tried to converse with him? He glared at the two girls and palmed his forehead. "Look, I get it that you guys are trying to get even with Bolton. So you lot came up with a brilliant plan to publicly humiliate him and yada yada yada. Great. But why me?"

"Cause you are the only male we could trust," Gabriella answered, waving a waiter off.

"Does this have anything to do with the fact that I am gay?" he questioned with arched brows.

Again the café went extremely quiet. Ryan frowned. He did not just say that aloud, right? Or was he imagining things? A few of the café's customers, especially the males, observed Ryan warily, as if he was carrying some deadly, highly infectious disease.

"Yes…and you're my twin," Sharpay admitted. "It would be easier for you to execute your mission."

"But I don't even like the guy…"

"That's the whole point. Why would we hire someone who likes him? He is supposed to fall for you, not the other way round."

"Hire? I get nothing out of this…This is insane," Ryan exhaled. "What makes you think he, Troy Bolton, East High basketball superstar, is going to fall for me?"

"We will make him fall for you." Gabriella smirked, rubbing her hands gleefully.

"First, you would need a total makeover." Sharpay winked and as if to emphasize her statement, she snapped her compact open.

"Makeover?" he croaked. "What makeover?" Nobody told him anything about a makeover.

"Have to do something with his hair…" Gabriella frowned, completely ignoring Ryan.

"And his wardrobe," Sharpay added.

"You can't be serious!" Ryan's jaw went slack. No. They got to be fucking kidding him!

"He can play the electric guitar, right?" Gabriella questioned, gesturing for Ryan to shut it.

"Yes, very well," Sharpay said proudly. For the first time in her life, she was actually proud of her twin. A fair majority of her life, she only noticed herself, herself and oh, of course, herself. But she remembered when she first heard Ryan with the guitar. She smiled.

"Hello? I am over here! In case you haven't noticed, I don't have an electric guitar!" he hollered, standing up, knocking the chair over. A waiter rushed over only to be silenced by Ryan's stiff, shallow wave.

"He hasn't got one?" Gabriella queried.

"That could be easily settled," Sharpay chuckled, waving her credit card.

* * *

Scene II:

Ryan lifted a brow as he studied his reflection. His eyes narrowed dangerously in their slits as he glanced at his once blond hair that was spiked to an artistic perfection by his hairstylist. His hair was now a lustrous shade of midnight-blue, so was his eyebrows and eyelashes. Ryan groaned and turned his head, studying the tiny, silver clips that accessorized both ears. _Great_, he thought wryly. He then lowered his gaze, and sighed, "I can't believe I let them talk me into this."

"_You look great. T__rust me,"_ said Sharpay through his earpiece.

"Uh huh" he growled, tugging at the black band around his neck. "So, I am to sign up for the…?"

"_End__ year musical…you will be participating as a band. But you must pass the audition first…"_

"_That's second. First, you should persuade Bolton for letting you into his band."_

"Right," Ryan replied, thankful that the washroom was empty at such early hours. He was not certain how would people react towards this new Ryan…More importantly, how would he react towards their receptions – cold or warm. Dipping his head, he stared at the dirty sink and scowled. He hated changes. Any forms. Internal or external, he hated them all.

"_It's about time you come out from there…"_ Gabriella muttered, accompanied by an electrical cackle.

"Right," he sighed, turning the tap off and marched out of the toilet, partly relieved that he would no longer be inhaling the sharp, acrid scent of washing detergent and dilute chlorine. "You know…I doubt anyone is in school. It's frigging six thirty. Who turns up at six thirty other than the janitor?"

"_Hey, you are the one who insisted on turning up early."_

"Imagine the ruckus I did cause…" Ryan reminded acidly as he studied his attire. It was no different from his old ones, except they were a little more daring. Sexy? Was that the adjective Sharpay was trying to term him with? And a hell lot darker in colour. He inspected his low-waist, skinny jeans and then, the leather coat that hung perfectly on his shoulders. "People will be asking all sorts of questions…all sorts of dumb questions. I'm not a very tolerant person. There are certain things that I did rather not hear or be aware of. Some matters tend to bring out the worse in me."

"_Sorry for interrupting,"_ Gabriella sighed. _"But Bolton is in. I am certain. He's in the gym, practising his shots. It's best you get to him now. Any later, Chad or Jason would be accompanying him. It's easier to talk to him when he is not too busy waxing his social image or reputation."_

"On my way there," Ryan mumbled, fingers raking his styled hair. He still had difficulty imagining Bolton falling for him. Sure, Bolton was a bad closet case. But that was Gabriella's words. Not once had Bolton showed any signs of him being interested in the same sex. Nor had he showed any interest in the female anatomy.

He descended the stairs, tackling two at a time. "I'm closing in."

And with that said, he pulled out his earpiece and jammed it into his pocket. The last thing he needed was the two of them barking incoherent statements into his ear, ordering him to do things that hardly made any sense. Ryan Evans was actually nervous, and listening to them would only make it worse.

Reaching the front of the gym door, he could hear the loud squeaks of rubber against the polished, wooden floor. With a sigh, he pushed the door open and stepped inside.

###

Troy Bolton halted, collected the fallen ball and turned his attention to the intruder at the end of the gym. His deep auburn bangs plastered on his forehead, shirt stuck uncomfortably to his back and mouth dry. He needed a drink. Brows knitted with concentration, he scrutinized the stranger.

Troy swore he had seen that brunet before...The intruder was no Wild Cat. That he was certain. He knew that stranger…those innocent, cornflower-blue eyes, the baby face and luscious red lips. Dropping the ball, Troy took a few steps forward.

He needed to be sure…

The intruder lifted his head, raven hair spilling over shy, blue eyes. The intruder took a few hesitant steps forward, hand palming the back of his neck. "Uh…hi?"

"Ryan?" Troy quickened his pace, eyes widened in surprise as he studied the other man's apparel.

"No. It's Sharpay."

"Yeah, definitely Ryan." Troy smirked. "It's impossible for you to be your twin. You are pretty much two-dimensional on the top." _Not to mention, a hell lot sweeter and lovelier than that loud mouth bitch_, he commented inwardly.

"Wow, I am shocked. Thank you for the rather important information, Sherlock."

"Anything, Watson," Troy chuckled, extending his arm in warm greeting. He wanted to question Ryan about his new look, but noted the discomfort that was clearly visible in the other's eyes and decided against it.

Ryan stared at his hand and grimaced. Troy lifted his brows, half expecting Ryan's snarky comeback. But none came. The Evans slammed his eyes shut and took Troy's hand, shaking it lightly. The smaller boy shuddered at the contact, nose scrunched in obvious displeasure.

"Do you need any anti-bacterial wipes?" the basketball player offered with a quick smile.

"No…" Ryan muttered. "But, thanks anyway."

Troy nodded his head. _Now what? _"So…what are you doing here?"

Ryan threw his head to the back, cursing softly as he thrust his hands deep into his jeans pocket. Troy cocked a brow, curious at Evans behaviour. Feeling the need to jest, Troy chuckled, "Here to cheer for me?"

"No!" was Ryan instant reply.

"Then?" Troy prompted.

"I…I want to join your band," the smaller boy choked, almost gagging at the words he had uttered.

"What?" Troy frowned. Did he hear him correctly? The gorgeous brunet tweaked his ears, earning him a disbelief look from Evans.

"Are you deaf? I said, I want to join your band." This time, there were no retching sounds accompanying it.

"Ok…" Troy stated slowly with arched brows and narrowed eyes. "Is that what the getup is for?" he asked, waving his index finger at Ryan's apparel.

For a moment, Troy thought he saw Evans' face darkened, but it only lasted for a fraction of a second, too short to be certain, too short for him to conclude anything. "No…" Ryan exhaled through clenched teeth. "Just wanted to try something different…something new…one must be flexible when it comes to fashion and styles."

"Uh huh," Troy muttered, folding his arms as he made a mental note: Ryan was a lousy liar. "You look good," the basketball superstar complimented, being completely honest. Ryan was more than 'good' in Bolton's mind. He was delicious. The dark hair and lashes had given a subtle edge to Ryan's appearance, especially his eyes. Those blue-eyes now looked electrifying under those long, dark lashes.

Yup, Troy Bolton had a major crush on Ryan Evans. But it was well hidden. Well concealed under that tanned face and calculative eyes. No one should discover his secret, especially Ryan.

"Thanks…" Ryan mumbled, a light frown rested on his forehead.

"Hate to think you change your look just to join the band," Troy tested, eyeing Ryan intently.

Normally, the boy was pretty expressive with his feelings. No words were required for Ryan to transfer the emotions he felt to his peers, he let his eyes, mouth and nose did it for him. But this time, it was different. Ryan kept his countenance clear of any expressive lines as his lips arranged themselves into a thin, grim line.

"No…I am not that stupid…" Ryan muttered. "It's ridiculous. Really…"

"Yeah…" Troy added, "There is no need for you to be someone else to be accepted." _Oh, how ironic Bolton, _Troy cursed inwardly. "Just be who you are."

"Right…" Ryan mumbled, deep in thought. "Hold on…I haven't got an answer from you yet."

"An answer to what question?" Troy asked.

"Do you…accept me?" Ryan asked.

"Well…show us what you got," Bolton replied. "Come over to my house this Saturday. You can come at ten in the morning, and if things work out, you can rehearse with us the entire day."

"Sweet," Evans stated with a fake smile, taking a step back. "So…see you this Saturday?"

"You will be seeing me later in Math," Troy smirked.

Ryan cringed.

"After I have a shower."

"Good." Ryan nodded and gave a shallow, wave. "Got to go…"

"Bye," Bolton said, a smile plastered on his face.

"Yeah…bye."

Troy stared at Evans, memorising the soft lines of his shoulders to the gentle curves of his limbs. With a cough, he glanced away, uncomfortable with where his thoughts had brought him to. Taking a deep gulp of tainted oxygen, he tried to clear his head and bent down to collect his bottle. He could hear the footfalls growing soft, the distance between them growing as Ryan headed for the door.

"Ryan!"

Ryan halted and turned, brows knotted and hands clenched. His lips opened and closed, trying to form a certain comeback but finally, he stared blankly at Troy, curiosity and frustration colouring those irises a lovely shade of liquid gold.

Troy gulped. "You really look good…serious."

"Ok…" Ryan exhaled, flicking his brows upwards. "…ok…" And he retreated out of the gym, face pale, as he repeated Troy's words in his head.

* * *

Scene III: (Saturday – nine forty five a.m.)

"NO!" Chad, the bassist, said.

Troy, Jason and Zeke arched their brows in surprise. "Come again?" Troy said, folding his arms. He was a little more than surprise at Chad's reaction towards the news – Ryan joining the band. After all, Chad and Ryan were considerably good friends, if not close friends, and had shared more than mutual respects but a depth of understanding that almost levelled with his and the bass guitar player.

"Look, I don't hate that guy," Chad defended as Jason shot him a questioning stare. "Serious. He's my friend and I like that guy. Honest! But…put him in the band…It's just wrong."

"He isn't in the band yet," Troy reminded, suddenly feeling dour at his best friend's behaviour.

"But he will!" Chad insisted.

"How can you be so sure?" Zeke asked as he nibbled the corner of his homemade chocolate-cranberry cookie.

"Cause he is an Evans!"

Zeke arched his brows and cast a sidelong glance at Jason, who shrugged in reply. "He's losing it," Zeke, the drummer, remarked.

"No," Chad snapped.

"What exactly is your problem?" Troy asked, fuming slightly as he collapsed on an old, worn out sofa. The sofa squeaked in protest as he shifted uncomfortably, eyes sweeping the garage, studying the faces of his friends.

"He is joining the band…" Chad drawled.

"That's what you have been saying for the entire week," Zeke replied, sharing his cookies with Jason. "You aren't giving us an exact reason why you don't want him here," Jason clarified, mumbling a "thanks" to the drummer.

Troy scowled at Chad, shaking his head lightly. _This will take forever_, he noted and glanced at his watch. Ryan would be coming soon, and hopefully, he would not have to hear any of this. Hopefully by then, in the next…twelve minutes…this conversation would come to an end.

"Come on…It's our band!" Chad said, sounding strangled.

"I thought you disagree to this. You never liked the idea of forming a band," Troy enunciated, eyes dark and menacing but his countenance clear of emotions.

"That was last time."

"Yeah…but I thought you said you still can't believe that we are actually a band," Jason muttered, helping himself to a second piece of cookie.

"Of course it is hard to believe. We are the Wild Cats…" Chad argued lamely. "For once, I wanted to try something different…"

"Just answer us," Troy hissed, hand palming his forehead.

"…this is a boy band…" Chad pointed out.

"Well, thank you for stating the obvious," Troy growled.

"Wow…wait…are you saying by allowing Ryan to join us…this will turn into a girl band?" Zeke replied, grinning.

Troy's eyes widened. "Is that true?"

"No. Just a band of sissified men…" Chad remarked.

"Have you looked at Ryan lately?" Jason queried, brows arched. "That guy is no sissy."

"I know…but when he danced or sing…you know…forced…painful…" Chad waved his hands.

"Oh…" Zeke replied, accompanied with a nod. "He does have a point. His moves do seem a tad bit exaggerated."

"Not just exaggerated…" Chad exhaled. "It…"

"What does this got to do with being a sissy or us getting sissified?"

"You did see him dance right?" Danforth questioned.

"So?" Troy frowned. "You can't give a proper answer, can you?"

Chad stared at his best friend for a moment and sighed, "No. Sorry I can't…but let me try, one last time."

"Just be honest," Zeke advised.

"Highly unlikely of him."

"Troy…let him talk," Jason sighed.

Chad gritted his teeth as he observed their faces. Should he just spit it out? He slid his eyes to the side, studying Bolton's face, then to Zeke's and Jason's. Would it be wise? He contemplated.

"I'm just worried that Troy would…well…lose his self control…"

"What?!" the trio said simultaneously, eyes wide in shock.

"Come on…I know Troy…I know…" Chad mumbled. "But as your best friend…I accept it…the way you look at Ryan."

"What is he talking about?" Jason asked, casting Troy a questioning look.

"I have no clue," Troy lied.

"What?" Chad retorted. "I thought you have a crush on Ryan!"

* * *

**Author:** Scene III will be continued in Part B. Sorry about the length...Part B...would be worse...lengthwise. I will wrap this story up in Part B, hopefully within the range of ten to twelve pages. Hopefully...


End file.
